"Ugh, I really hate the cold…" a young woman grumbled. She was a fairly thin young woman, almost deathly gaunt to be honest. She had a soft tan, and wiry shoulder-length auburn hair with a little frizz to it. In school she was mocked as "Dead Tree" because of her looks – a thin post of a woman, the color of a dead tree.
She hadn't much cared about stuff like that. They were jealous, she reasoned. Reasoning was what she was good at. That, and science, and math. It made the boys and girls around her jealous, because she was better than them. So she would use those smarts to pull all sorts of pranks to get back at those who made fun of her. It ended up with her being labeled a delinquent for all the mischief she caused. She was even expelled from school at one point.
How does someone like that get to be the head of a government research lab? In a world where the virtue of extreme pragmatism wins out over everything else, you just have to show some results. In the case of Cynthia Forest that came by way of crashing a university lecture. She grew so aggravated with the professor's "lack of basic intelligence" that she interrupted the lecture to go on a rant about "lack-wits" pretending they know something, but just deluding others with their "stupidity".
She specifically took issue with the way in which some theorists had decided that it was "better" to sit at a computer all day writing and running mathematic equations without paying any real attention to the actual world. She decried the gall that "shut-ins" thought they had grounds to dismiss the way people used to view the world, despite the fact that those people were once the most preeminent minds in the world applying the best of what they knew of the world as they observed and interacted with it.
That was usually a sure way to get on Cynthia's nerves. She wasn't an outdoorsy type. The last thing she wanted to do was go traipsing through some godforsaken part of the world just to stare at some strange bug for days on end to come back with some sage insight about what they found out about the world. But she also wasn't about to criticize anyone that did. She hated what she called "recency bias" whereby people tended to gravitate to the newest thing without regard to any contradictions or failures doing so creates.
This episode occurred when she was about 15. It so happened that attending that lecture, and similarly exasperated by the speaker, though for differing reasons, was an associate of the project funded by a particular Britannia prince. That project would eventually yield the Damocles. Cynthia would contribute to that project.
After her outburst, in a similar way to Nina Einstein just a couple years later, Cynthia's bout of eccentricity caught the attention of the right person, who scooped her up quickly and offered her the opportunity to continue on her track of scientific thought. What was her idea? That history and the natural world taught us a lot more about the potential of science than modern scientists liked to admit. That the failure of scientists in the modern era was forgetting the lessons of those before them.
Her benefactors didn't much care about her ramblings though… except maybe Prince Schneizel. He generally liked strange people and their strange thoughts, and luckily for Cynthia that included her. So she was given a budget to work with, and the freedom to pursue any preferred angle in development of the Damocles' systems. She hadn't been told it was for the Damocles. But, she was one of the few who was able to piece together the bits of information to figure it all out. Ultimately, she contributed to the power system, the propulsion, and the shield design. She also helped a bit on the operating systems too.
She was a little unhappy that she didn't receive any greater recognition for her efforts. Her project was a masterpiece of technology and engineering, a fortress capable of flight into orbit altitude, a system capable of self-directed flight to any preplanned coordinates without further input from a human pilot, complete temperature control throughout the ship to provide complete comfort to those onboard… yet the weapon Nina developed got all the attention. Cynthia wasn't looking for a tickertape parade or anything, but a little acknowledgement and congratulations from the world at large for her superb accomplishments would have been nice. At least hers weren't in-of-themselves responsible for murdering countless people.
In hindsight, however, she reasoned it was for the best. She was liable to punch someone in the face if they forced her to defend her creation by asking questions about how it was used. "A ship's a ship," she told one UFN agent when she was held for debriefing after the fall of the Lelouch era. What the Damocles was outfitted with in terms of weapons, how the aspects of the ship were ultimately used, weren't particularly of her concern. The research and its progeny were of legitimate effect at the time of conception and creation. How it was used after the fact wasn't something she could control or have any real say in. Well… she used more colorful language than that.
Nevertheless, she wasn't held liable for anything regarding the Damocles. When she saw the hell Nina went through, the endless cavalcade of interviews, interrogations, debriefings, and any other synonyms various entities used for what they called asking questions, Cynthia found an appreciation for the bit of anonymity she received. After all, it allowed her to become head of her own research lab.
Since then her outlook on many things changed. She took a more conciliatory view of the scientists she once railed against; it wasn't their fault they were mistaught and coddled into halfwits. And her detractors and the bullies she grew up with, well their minds were even less fertile soil, so the real folly was in expecting anything of them at all. You set a thousand monkeys down in a room and expect them to create a literary work, then it's your own fault for expecting anything at all when you show up later to see they haven't come up with a coherent string of words, let alone something approaching literature.
One thing that didn't change was her dislike of the cold. Science couldn't cure that. Certainly it could alleviate the symptoms – warmer clothing, warmer undergarments, heating packs for your hands. Technically speaking, if she were being honest, you could likely fiddle with the genetic code of a person to make them more tolerant of the cold. But that was a pretty stupid thing to waste time on she thought. You were better off with the elegantly simplistic answer of just not spending time in cold places. That's why she rarely ever made the trip to Camelot outside the months of May through August. She was liable to wring someone's neck if they had forced her out here when it was cold enough to snow.
Her mood was sour too, since if they had postponed this meeting a couple days, she would have at least caught the unseasonable warmup that was on the way. Temperatures in the sixties were much better than forties. The way the temperature had dropped so quickly this year, only to bounce back up again, was irritating, but it was one of those things about complex natural systems she considered was good to learn about… from reading and understanding someone else's research born of enduring it.
"Thank you coming out to see us, Ms. Forest," she was greeted by a slightly portly man. He was about her height, dressed in fine, but not too fine, clothes. That was the way the democratically elected government officials tended to dress – fine, but not too fine. That was their way of presenting themselves as both better than the regular folks, but not as presumptuous as to think themselves nobles. Thanks to the reforms started under Lelouch and extended under Nunnally, Cynthia knew a man like this was probably just as powerful and wealthy as some who still held titles. He just acted like he wasn't so he didn't get a spotlight too brightly shone on him. For her part she didn't much care either way. To her estimation an elected politician was a duke or a baron under a different title. As long as they didn't get in the way of her work, she didn't care what they called themselves or how they dressed.
"It would have been better for you to fly out to see me instead," she answered him back. The man a step or two behind him grimaced at her remark. She knew immediately that one had to be the chief of staff or some similar lapdog. He probably thought his master too good to put up with some commoner woman's snide remarks to his boss.
"Given the situation it's imperative that we not leave Empress Nunnally's side too long. Should anything happen in the time we're away, it would be severely detrimental to our Holy Empire for her majesty to be without our counsel."
She wondered if he really believed what he was saying to her, or if he just felt he had the obligation to say it. She didn't want to waste time arguing the point, so she let it slide and moved on. "What exactly did you want me to come out to the capital for?" she asked directly.
"Straight to the point I see. Very well, come with me and we'll discuss it in detail."
James McHenry was a different type of person Cynthia disliked. He was the sort that played at being smarter than he really was, showing others arrogant contempt hidden behind a smile and carefully crafted conciliatory words. His type took forever to get to the point of whatever they were talking about, so it was just a pain listening to their rambling. She was sure their type fooled others not through eloquent or sophisticated speech, but sheer boredom.
Still, he was the Senate Advisor on Science and Technology. In other words, he took his knowledge and expertise and used it to inform the other members of the Senate on policy, and in some cases coordinate government action, on matters of science and technology. In essence that made him the bureaucratic version of Lloyd.
James and many others in the Senate were what could best be called under-nobles. They were the financially and socially connected who just hadn't broken through into the ranks of nobility. That had given them enough power to dream, but not enough to readily actualize those dreams. Their best bet was to rear a child who might catch the fancy of a noble, and by way of marriage enter those echelons. They welcomed the changes to more democratic systems as it let them taste greater power, but yet hated it too as that top tier still existed, and the same barriers to entry had grown more concentrated. One could always hope to be granted title by the Empress for going above and beyond to please her, but she seemed far less likely to grant such rewards than any of her predecessors, most of whom weren't fans of that patronage system anyway.
For a good ten or fifteen minutes she sat and listened to his talk of the future of the empire, the importance of Britannia's edge in the fields of science and technology, as well as… she started tuning out around that point, aside from the occasional nod or verbalization to feign attention. By design or coincidence, his pitch seemed to end right as they were arriving at their destination.
It was an unassuming building; a worn factory building somewhere east of Camelot, near to the bay if the gulls honking in the distance were any indication. It was relatively quiet around these parts otherwise. It was clear this area had seen better days, but from the looks of things those days hadn't ended terribly long ago. Despite the small amount of activity for what clearly seemed to have once been a bustling area, there wasn't a ton of vandalism or disrepair to be seen.
"What is this place?" she asked as they got out of the car.
"There are some of us who are pained by the poor advice and direction our young Empress has received. Despite her best efforts, there are those who fill her mind with wrong-headed ideas. So, within the powers she has allowed us, we make use of our talents to make plans for the sake of preserving our most holy empire long into the future. This latest calamity with these "Alters" is just furtherance of the evidence of why our work is so important.
"Be that as it may, Camelot is not the place for such a thing to take place. Quite frankly the city is too ripe a target for attack, too out-in-the-open for work that must necessarily be done in secret. Our enemies use our times of peace to plot against us, and if we fail to respond to this certain threat, we will find ourselves as our ancestors did – our land taken from us, cast out to the seas to struggle just to survive."
"A convenient frame of mind," she thought. She couldn't help but wonder how much that mentality helped the last two emperors to not end up dead.
As James McHenry led her inside the old warehouse they'd driven up to, she realized almost immediately what was going on in there. She reflexively took a step backwards, a small gasp slipping out. "Are you out of your mind!?" she asked, unable to hold back her shock.
"I assure you not," he said with a short laugh. "Based on Ms. Einstein's work and prior research, this facility is adequate enough for our current work here. But, we are looking toward the future. This may suffice for our research purposes, but it will never be suitable for ramping up to full production."
"How are you even staffing this place?" she marveled, her curiosity winning over now and leading her to step in to take a closer look at the complex.
"Locals," he answered with a gruff. "Mostly locals. They obviously can't do a lot of the complex stuff, can't match you real scientists. But they can at least complete the routine and more rudimentary tasks. And since the area's been going through its own localized depression of sorts, there're a lot of folks around her willing to take on a job with a little risk and a reasonable paycheck. Don't even mind signing an NDA or two."
"And no doubt there are more than a couple mysterious deaths too," she thought, though the inquisitiveness born of seeing the lab here was pulling her mind from other idle thoughts.
"Looks like you like it; that's good, that's good. I was hoping you would, since I would like for you to be in charge of moving this whole operation out your side and carrying it out through its final stages."
"But I thought you said Nina was involved?" she questioned. She had been something of an unrequited rival to Nina, but respected the fact that Nina was a genius intellect deserving of recognition for her work.
"Our little project here isn't up her alley right now. She's been working on a special assignment for the Empress. Poor girl's so tired from overwork she accidentally called her "princess" once. In any case, Einstein's primarily working out of the capital nowadays, and as you might imagine seeing all this, Camelot isn't exactly the ideal location for this. If you're worried about the people here, there's no need to be concerned. We're pushing through a redevelopment plan for this area, so even once this setup is gone the people should be fine."
"They're obviously hiding this all from the empress. They'll scrub this place away under the guise of redevelopment. Still… this is amazing."
"So, what do you think?"
"I… For the love of our empire even I would jump at the chance to work on something like this," she said, a look of bewilderment on her face, as though she couldn't believe what she'd said.
"Excellent, excellent," James said, chuckling and patting her on the shoulder. "Let's get started planning this all out. I imagine you'd like to get this all moved out to California sooner rather than later."
"What's the timeline?"
"Soon as possible. If it works as we expect, this project could terminate the threat of the Alters, so the sooner the better."
While James was talking to his new recruit, activity was getting going in the palace again. The last couple days since the Euphemia Alter incident at Cornelia's home, there was a lot of frantic handwringing about what to do. Keeping the lid on Alter incidents had become all but impossible given the interest in the general public now that the cat was out of the bag.
"This doesn't bring back the best memories," Kallen grumbled. She was slouched at a table in a room not far from Nunnally's chambers. Sitting not too far away was C.C. nibbling away at her favorite food. She seemed barely aware of the grumblings from Kallen but took notice enough to respond.
"The last time was in China, wasn't it? Or perhaps it was sometime after that?"
"Does she realize how much like her brother she is?"
"I do remind her of that all the time, though she seems a little conflicted on how to take it," C.C. lightly tittered.
"You told her you'd be going somewhere?"
"Yeah. I can't really do much to help her from here in this makeshift castle," C.C. sighed, finishing off the last slice in the box. "Me sitting around here consoling her isn't gonna make her problems go away. But, I was worried about leaving her all alone here. I hadn't realized I'd become quite so soft and sentimental."
"You're definitely not the cold-blooded witch you used to be."
"I hadn't realized you were so sensitive just because I wouldn't pay any attention to you. You should've spoken up. I would've played with you more."
"Cut the crap," Kallen grumbled. "You know she trusts you more than practically anyone, right?"
"That's why I have to do this for her," C.C. said somberly. "I'm not sure why, but I do know that power she has isn't anything normal. Those creatures of hers are real too. If this plan to stop Euphemia Alter doesn't work, it could cause her to retaliate more forcefully. We've been fortunate that Marrybell Alter has remained in London, that Shirley Alter and Euphemia Alter haven't chosen to attack the same way. Antagonizing her would be a disaster since we don't know how to stop her."
"You're that worried?" Kallen asked, C.C.'s apprehension feeling like more than just being cautious.
"When you think about it, there's something far more going on here. Euphemia Alter is not the first immortal. V.V was too. I'm one as well. And there were others even before me."
"Your point?"
"If I were to be shot, I would still feel the pain. I would still collapse to the ground. Tell me, when was the last time you heard of a single person attacking entire military bases on their own, without being shot?"
"Okay…"
"Immortality alone isn't a key to power. I've been an immortal for hundreds of years, yet when you and I first met, what was that like?"
Kallen thought back for a moment to that fateful day when the military weapon shipment her and her colleagues abducted turned out to be this girl bound in a straitjacket and sealed in a strange capsule. "So you're saying the fact she hasn't ended up like you were then means something else is up."
"We haven't heard a single report about her showing some incredible recovery, being shot and getting back up, or anything like that, despite that being the only real power immortality gives you. The theory you worked out with Lloyd and Rakshata about how she's accomplishing her feats of strength may make some sense, but it doesn't explain enough about her."
"So that's what you want to try and find out more about."
"Yes. No matter what the situation is, I do know that there's a power she has that's not like anything I've seen before, and so I need to find out where that power came from and how she got it. There could be more people out there with a similar power that we don't even know about yet, the same way these three came out of nowhere."
"Do you have a plan? Somewhere to start?"
"Actually, Nina gave me an idea."
"Oh yeah? What's that?"
"This all seems to be mainly centered on Britannia. That's not a surprise when you consider Britannia's role in the world. But, Geass had a much broader reach than just Britannia. If I use the information they gathered about where the Alters may have been seen before we were aware of them, and compare that with what I know about Geass, there might be a reason why they showed up in the places they did."
"It probably would be easier for you to look into something like that than to send out the OSS or something," Kallen admitted. She didn't like the idea of C.C. leaving the capital right now but had to admit it made sense.
"I'm surprised, Kallen. You're far more agreeable than I expected."
"Shut up," Kallen waved off dismissively, thinking C.C. was poking her.
"I mean it," C.C. assured. "I was certain you'd be suspicious of anything I'd suggest and protest it all the way. I know I'm not exactly the most trusted person around here."
"I don't know myself if I trust you or not," Kallen said, staring at C.C. "But, I learned a lot from being around you and Lelouch. I don't think you'd come all this way with Nunnally just to betray her. I loved Lelouch, that's why I'm here to protect what he died for. I believe that's why you're here right now too."
"To think that for love even I jump at the slightest chance to make someone else smile… I wonder how long it's been since I've felt like this."